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it’s best not to think
on these things, we are told;
best to not let the mind
slip into shadows of ruins
and torments that
breed in the night—
the treasures we keep
are best seen in the light.

sleep comes easiest
when it comes soon,
bathed in the glow
of a waxing moon.

there we are safe
in our luminous skin
and free to ignore
the fruits of our sin;

and, as we ascend
and transcend the wild,
flies shit on the lips
of a starving child.